


Foundations

by Musicandjason



Series: The house of Holmes and Lestrade [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, The Beginning, building relationships, lots of fliff, maybe some conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1612952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musicandjason/pseuds/Musicandjason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a prequel to 'Rebuild' and basically how everything started! Mycroft and Greg get to know each other a bit. </p>
<p>Mycroft/Greg</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of these characters, just using them to curb my boredom. 
> 
> This is also un-betaed. All mistakes are my own. Thanks for reading and any concrit is welcome!

Greg Lestrade was sure that he smelled like the inside of a rubbish bin, but it couldn’t be helped. The trousers of his suit were soaked through from running through the streets of London after Sherlock Holmes. The young Holmes had been out of his mind on some insane sort of drug and had managed to sneak into one of the open crime scenes and steal an important piece of evidence, claiming no one was competent enough to figure it out, and took off.

The Detective Inspector was the only person was eventually able to talk Sherlock back under control, so he set off after him, first in his BMW 5 Series Gran Turismo and then by foot when it became too difficult to keep up with him in the high powered car. It was approximately 2 hours before Sherlock realized that he needed Greg’s resources and allowed himself to be “caught”.

Sherlock Holmes was now sitting in an interrogation room, on a metal chair, both hands handcuffed to the cold, hard arms. He was in front of a matching metal table, which was bare, and even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be able to see anything, because all the lights were off. Call it sensory deprivation. Sherlock hated it, and was screaming through those gleaming white teeth, as he had been for over half an hour. Greg had been able to tune it out, and was sitting at his wooden desk doing the necessary paperwork for the case.

His office was a bit messy, with folders and glossy photos all over the desk, and his old ratty jacket thrown on the spare chair. He was concentrating hard when he heard a strong knock on the door and Greg lifted his eyes from his papers. “Come in?”

Sherlock Holmes’ older brother Mycroft walked in, with a thick woolen jacket and an umbrella that was clearly recently used. He had one of his fancy bespoke suits on, and a tight smile pursed his lips. “Hello, Detective Inspector.”

“Mycroft. I assume that you’re here about your brother, am I correct?” Greg heaved a heavy sigh and stood up slowly. Mycroft was a tiresome trouble when he showed up like this, with his unmentioned power and unavoidable poshness.

“Actually, I’m here to thank you, Detective Inspector.” Mycroft picked up Greg’s jacket off the chair and hung it carefully on the coat rack. He then, quite gracefully for a tall man, sat down and crossed his legs. “Once again you have taken care of him when he didn’t deserve it.”

Greg was taken aback by the comments. Mycroft Holmes never gave any impression that it was Greg Lestrade’s duty to Queen and country to take care of the misfit Holmes. “We really need to see about him getting treatment. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold off my superiors.”

Mycroft nodded in understanding. “I’m quite sure that I’ll be able to convince him that he needs to be admitted to a facility. But that’s only part of the reason that I’m here…”

Greg furrowed his grey eyebrows, as he watched Mycroft stand a second time, and reach into the pocket of his upscale jacket and pull out a small box. Greg’s confusion was doubled when he realized it was an Alexander McQueen box. “Mycroft? You know I can’t accept things for taking care of Sherlock…those are considered bribes.”

Mycroft frowned a bit, although it was hard to tell because his face was always set so hard. “It is not a bribe. I merely saw this when I was shopping for someone and thought it would be a good addition to your wardrobe. Perhaps for the next time you’re on TV speaking about a case.”

Greg literally had no idea what was going on anymore. Why would posh Mycroft Holmes be buying rough Greg Lestrade anything? He took the small box and opened it slowly, as if it may jump out and attack him. Once the top was off, the box was revealed to contain a coiled up tie. It was gorgeous silk and wool, mostly black with a red, grey and white stripe on the diagonal. Greg pulled it out of the box and simply starred. “Wait a second. What’s wrong with my ties now?”

“I believe it’s polite to say thank you when someone gives you a gift, Detective Inspector.” Mycroft’s face betrayed no feelings, but his hands were clasped tightly in front of him.

“It’s a lovely gift, Mycroft, but I can’t accept it. It’s too expensive, and I’m not sure what the intention is behind it.” Greg folded it back up, and although it looked nothing like it was supposed to, it still fit in the box well enough. He handed it back to Mycroft.

“I would have thought the intention was quite clear. I would like you to have a tie to complement your lovely grey hair.” Mycroft put the box down on Greg’s desk and turned to leave. “I suppose there are other intentions that can be assumed as well.”

And he walked out of Greg’s office, and out of the building, never once looking back. Greg took a deep breath and picked up the box, looking more closely at the tie. In the stitching on the front, there was a fait outline of a skull. Greg couldn’t help but smile, even though it was a strange gift choice for him. He undid the tie had been wearing, which had been a gift from his mother on his birthday three years ago. It was plain, and blue, and unremarkable. He flipped up his collar and proceeded to thread the fine fabric through and tie the tie carefully. When it was completed, he looked down at it and hd to agree that it looked very nice. He closed the box and tucked it into the desk drawer.

He was just going to sit down when his mobile started to vibrate. He looked at the display and saw that it was a blocked call. He hit ignore on the keypad and went back to his paperwork. As a rule he didn’t answer blocked numbers because you never knew where they were calling from. The phone rang a second time, and Greg proceeded to put it in his drawer.

From inside the drawer he heard a single vibration that indicated a text message. He shook his head slowly and opened the drawer, picking up his HP Palm Pre.

_It’s rude to screen your phone calls. – MH_

_It’s even more rude to block your number from the man you just gave an expensive present. – GL_

_It looks lovely by the way. – MH_

Greg smiled, because this message came through from an unblocked number. He saved it in his contacts and then dealt with the troubling realization that Mycroft could see inside his office. He decided to let that rest in his mind for now.

_Thank you. Whomever bought it for me had great taste. – GL_

_Yes, he does. In all things. – MH_

_Are you flirting with me, Mycroft Holmes? – GL_

_I suppose you could assume that, yes. Is that an issue? – MH_

Greg was five months out of his failed marriage and had nothing more than a one night stand here and there. He assumed that while it was possible that Mycroft wanted a booty call, he didn’t really seem the type. Those one night stands had also all been with women, as had his marriage. He wasn’t sure how Mycroft knew about his bisexuality, but he had certainly never hidden it. Was he even interested in Mycroft? He had never given it much thought. People called him the Iceman for a reason.

_I guess that depends on how our first date goes. – GL_

_I’ll be in touch in the next few days about that. It will be fancy. I hope you have a nice suit. – MH_

_I have a nice tie… - GL_

_I’ll send over a suit to match the tie. – MH_

_Thank you. – GL_

Greg felt like that should cross a line about what was appropriate for someone that he wasn’t even actually dating, but something about Mycroft Holmes made his mind turn to mush, and it needed to stop. Greg had been interested in men in the past, and even had a few threesomes with his wife that he remembered fondly. She had always been too jealous of other women to think about him with someone else, but apparently never thought seriously about his bisexuality. He had secretly loved the encounters with other men, as it was a completely different feel than boring missionary sex with his wife. Maybe that had been the downfall in the end. Boredom.

That brought him back to a point he had been trying to make to his beating heart a few moments ago. Was he interested in Mycroft Holmes? Or was he just bored with what he was doing (or not doing)? He had never thought of Mycroft as anything other than the frustrating old brother of Sherlock and hyper powerful government official whom spent most of his time bailing his little brother out of trouble. Did he see him as an attractive man with auburn hair and fine taste in clothing? Could he? And more troubling, was Mycroft able to feel for him? He had only ever showed caring for Sherlock, and only ever showed cursory attention to Greg when he was dealing with said younger brother.

Greg rubbed his eyes forcefully, seeing orange and yellow spots once he removed his fingers. It had become plain for him to see that he was not going to get anymore work done, even though he had lots to do. He packed up his briefcase, got up from his desk and left, completely forgetting the jacket that was hung up on the coat hook; a place where it never resided in normal daily life.

 xxx

Mycroft had, in fact, seen that tie while he was out at the Savile Row Shop looking for a gift to give one of his co-workers who was moving on. Normally he would have just sent Anthea, but he had felt the need to get out of the office. He had ended up finding something at a lesser store for his co-worker, but had decided to keep on. While wandering around McQueen he had been lucky enough to come across a tie that he immediately thought would look divine looped around the neck of Detective Inspector Lestrade. He didn’t even look at the price as he took it up to be wrapped. It was put directly on the credit card he had on file. Mycroft knew that the gift would surprise and perhaps make Greg uncomfortable but he would deal with that concern later. This would be the first step that he took towards Greg, and for once Mycroft was a bit flustered about it. He had been admiring Greg for nearly a decade, since before Sherlock had even come in contact with him. Of course anyone who came into contact with Sherlock was vetted first, and that was exactly how he had come across Gregory Lestrade. His hair was a darker colour then and even a little bit longer, but he had the same kind brown eyes and warm smile.

Mycroft had appreciated and watched from afar while he climbed the ranks of the Metropolitan Police, watched his small daughter grow up, and in more recent years, watched his marriage fall apart. None of it had been particularly easy for Mycroft to watch, but he never interfered or even let on that he cared until he had. And then he had quite shown his hand, asking him to dinner and offering to send him a suit. He wanted to take Gregory to a nice place, but mostly he just wanted to see him in a three-piece-suit. Call him old fashioned (and most people would), but he loved a rough looking man in a suit.

He had called in a favour at his favourite restaurant to get a table later that week and ensured that he would not be bothered that evening by anything shy of nuclear war. Nothing was going to get in the way of his evening working out. He had already called his tailor and had a suit rushed for Greg’s measurements, and he already had the perfect one waiting in his huge walk-in closet. It was olive green with a similar tie to the one that he had given Greg, but without the skull embroidery. His waistcoat was also olive green, with a crisp, white rounded collar dress shirt. He had even chosen a special pin for the outfit.

Mycroft’s fingers danced on the arm of the high baked leather chair, while he hummed a Vivaldi tune that he particularly loved.

_You’re welcome, Gregory. I can hardly wait. – MH_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft and Greg have their first date. Sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading everyone! I really appreciate it! This is the "beginning of it all" as far as it goes for these two guys. Mycroft is still making assumptions, and Greg is still trying to figure out what's going on. But that won't likely ever change.

Greg’s life basically went to hell about six hours after they had stopped texting. A triple murder rocked the streets and communities of London, mostly because the victims seemed completely random. The victims didn’t have anything in common, save for the place that they were all found, all having different jobs and living arrangements. That made the public think that anyone could be next. Greg wasn’t so sure they were wrong.

Greg had been back to his small flat exactly twice in four days, for a grand total of six hours. The first time was to drop off the suit that Mycroft had sent to the Yard, which he hadn’t even had time to open, but was sure it fit perfectly and was gorgeous. He second time he went home and slept for four hours because he couldn’t stand to nap on the lumpy couch in his office anymore. He had a kink in his back which he was sure was never going away from the two hours of fitted sleep that he got the second day he was dealing with the case.

He had texted Mycroft to let him know that the week was shot, and he had been very understanding. Greg assumed if anyone knew about their job interrupting their personal life, it was definitely Mycroft Holmes. They kept in touch with messages a couple times a day, but both appeared pre-occupied. Greg’s small office was cluttered with three pin boards on tripods, with grisly photos and write ups all over. There was a thin knitted blanket and a pillow on the couch, and he had a bag with a change of clothes sitting on the ground behind his door. He was sitting behind his desk with his arms crossed and his head resting on them.

Greg wasn’t sure how long he had been like that when he heard someone open his door. “What did I tell you guys about knocking?”

“MY apologies, Detective Inspector. I didn’t want anyone to notice me at your door.” Mycroft stepped inside, carrying two canvas bags with him. He set them down by the door and carefully peeled his jacket (a different one than he had on the other day, this one dark chocolate brown and soft looking brushed wool) and hung it on the coat hook. Greg didn’t even know where his own jacket was.

“I appreciate that. I thought you were one of my PC’s. To what do I owe this honor?” Greg smiled, his first real smile in days, and motioned for Mycroft to sit in the chair in front of his desk. The elder Holmes did so, and crossed his legs carefully.

“I know how cases like this can be. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and I brought you dinner. I had James cook something that would be high in protein so that you would have energy.” Mycroft smiled warmly, and motioned with his hand to the bags he had put down a moment ago.

“You didn’t have to do that, Mycroft. I would have been okay on my own. But I am famished… What did…James make for us?”  Greg got up and fetched the bags, sitting them directly on top of all the papers and photos that were strewn about his desk. He looked at Mycroft as he started to unpack everything in small piles of glass containers and a glass jar of what looked like peach juice.

“I asked him to make you a few meals. One for us to share tonight. Fettuccine Alfredo with bacon and romano. A side of garlic toast, and some peach juice. Also, some cold cuts and cheese pumpernickel bread, and some and some condiments for lunches, and chicken breasts with curry rice and vegetables. Hopefully it’s all to your liking.” Mycroft grabbed the disposable plate that looked so posh Greg thought they must be real. He opened the Alfredo and the garlic bread and laid it out. Somehow, it still looked piping hot.

This is amazing, Mycroft Thank you. It’s the sweetest thing that someone has done for me in years. I cannot thank you enough.” Greg sat back down and grabbed a form, digging into the food quickly. He made an indecent noise in appreciation.

Mycroft smiled and sat down as well, pulling his chair closer to Greg’s desk.

“I’m sure eventually our relationship will progress to where you can thank me.” Greg nearly choked on his food and his eyes bulged.

“Are you propositioning me, Mycroft Holmes?”

“Nothing of the sort. I’m sure I will someday be in need of someone to bring me food to my office, and I hope that someday I can trust you enough for you to know where that is.” Mycroft daintily ate, without even looking up from his plate. Greg had no idea how to tell if he was serious or not, but decided that he probably was.

They ate in silence, both enjoying the comfortableness of the situation. There was no first date pressure or stress of special dress (although Mycroft had worn his new tie to match Greg’s) or strange cuisine. Mycroft looked up once he was finished eating to see Greg examining him closely.

“Can I help you with something, Detective Inspector?”

“I’m just looking at you. I’ve never gotten to see you so relaxed, or…”  Greg blushed and looked away. He picked at his nails as if the answers to this case were stuck under them.

“Or..?” Mycroft leaned in as he began to close up all the containers and put them back into the canvas bag. He deposited his paper plate and disposable utensil into the rubbage bin.

“You look…erm…really nice today.” Greg felt himself blush again and was sure that his brain was going to explode with all the blood rushing to it. Mycroft chuckled softly.

“Thank you. This is my favourite suit. And…a new tie.” Mycroft had a moment where he appeared flustered to Greg, and that in itself was a bit confusing. He had never seen Mycroft in a situation where he was anything but in full control.

“I’m sorry I look horrid. And I smell. Whenever I see you, I smell terrible. You must be disgusted.” Greg pulled a face, but let it go as soon as he saw the stern look that set Mycroft’s features. He suddenly felt like a child who was being silently scolded by his parents. Greg didn’t love the idea of that, but it was another thing he would file away to deal with later. He was worried how big that mental file would get. Maybe he would need his own mind cabinet thingy.

“I’m sure when you are not working you smell divine. I await the moment when I get to see that. Or Smell that, as the case may be.” Mycroft stood and set the canvas bag back on the ground. “I have a teleconference that I need to attend to in twenty minutes.”

Greg frowned but nodded, thinking it was time for him to get back to reality, but that didn’t mean he wanted to stop this comfortable moment with this enigmatic man. “I can’t thank you enough for this, Mycroft. It was so thoughtful and now I’ll have food for days!”

Mycroft walked around Greg’s desk, and Greg stood to meet him. They both shifted weight from foot to foot awkwardly, until Mycroft leaned in and placed a careful chaste kiss on Greg’s lips. He then pulled away only slightly; enough to speak but still close enough to be breathing Greg’s air. “The pleasure was all mine, Detective Inspector.”

Greg stood there, stunned and frozen in place as Mycroft smiled, then turned and went. When the auburn haired man had done this in the past, it had been quite annoying. This time, Greg was grateful for it. It gave him a chance to blink repeatedly and try to reason how one closed mouth kiss had sent heat through his body in a way he hadn’t felt in months. He shook his head slowly, grabbed the canvas bags and took them into the lunchroom to put in the fridge. He was sure to avoid everyone’s eyes who had been sure not to miss a well-dressed man entering his office and leaving 40 minutes later.

The Detective Inspector didn’t particularly care what people thought of him, or if they knew who he was seeing. But he wasn’t expressly sure if any of them knew of his differing tastes. Almost all of them knew him as a man who was married to a woman for 14 years. But he guessed he would just have to see. For now he had to focus on making the person who killed those three innocents pay for what they did.

 

 

It ended up taking eight more days to find the killer (a man who worked at a Laundromat) and the connection (everyone who was killed went to a convenience store two buildings down from the Laundromat) and to find the man who had gone on the run when the police started to get close. But they had found him, staying in a dumpy inn just outside London. He had come without a fight. All the required paperwork was complete, and finally Greg had been able to go home, and stay home. He had booked the next three days off just to be at home and relax.

Greg had collapsed and slept for one entire day before waking up relaxed but starving. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants, not bothering with underwear or a shirt, and shuffled out into his kitchen to put on the kettle for some tea. He sat down at the breakfast bar on a stool and listened to the water spring to life while it heated. He took that moment to take a look at his phone. He had one message from his daughter saying that she had seen him on the news, and two from Mycroft.

_Congratulations on a job well done. – MH_

_At your earliest convenience please look outside your flat’s door. – MH_

Greg let out a small laugh and got off his stool and walked to his door, which he opened. What he saw put a giant grin on his face that Greg knew wasn’t going to be quick to dissipate. It was a large bouquet of flowers with irises, lilies, roses and the smallest amount of baby’s breath. It was perfect. There was also a small box next to it, with a card stuck to the top. The Detective Inspector picked both up carefully and took them to the counter.

He went to the cupboard and grabbed his favourite mug and poured his hot water into it, then popped a teabag into the mug. Then he returned to the box and card. He pulled the thick cardstock out of the envelope to reveal an opulent card adorned with silver scrollwork and careful penmanship. The words made Greg’s heart feel full to bursting.

_Gregory,_

_I saw on the news that justice was served. In no small part to your expertise, I’m sure. You looked lovely on the news, but I’m sure you look better now that you’ve slept._

_I hope to see you soon,_

-Mycroft 

Greg picked up his phone and dialed Mycroft, waiting for the call to connect. Mycroft answered on the second ring.

“Hello, Gregory.”

“Only my Gran calls me Gregory. Can you call me Greg, please?”

“Your name is Gregory. I will call you that. It’s not like you’re going to shorten my name.” Mycroft sounded completely indignant and Greg momentarily wondered if he should call Mycroft Mr. Holmes from now on.

“Is that so, Myc?” Greg let the words tumble out of his mouth and then waited. Although he felt the attraction was very strong, he wasn’t sure they were quite at the joking stage. Or that Mycroft had a joking stage.

“You will never shorten my name again, Gregory. It sounds perfectly idiotic. Did you open the box?” Mycroft swiftly changed the subject.

“No, I’ve only just read the cards and seen the flowers. They’re beautiful; no one has ever given me flowers before.” Even though Greg knew Mycroft could not see him, the policeman smiled even wider. If he didn’t stop with this foolishness his face was going to cramp from all the smiling. “What’s in the box?”

“Open it and you will see, my dear Gregory.” Mycroft let a small chuckle drop from his lips. It seemed that they were both doing things outside of the norm.

“Fine, fine!” Greg picked up the small box, which was lighter than expected and also made of the finest paper products. He took the top off it slowly and inside he found a key on a keychain that was emblazoned with the Arsenal Football Club logo. “A…key?”

“Yes. For my flat. I believe that you likely feel that this is very premature, as we have not even officially been on our first date, but I’m sure that our schedules would be insane, and I would love nothing more than for you to be in my bed when I get home at night.” Mycroft took a deep breath once all the words had fallen from his lips, almost like a sigh of relief.

“I…I would like to get to that point Mycroft. But I am not going to be your kept man, just waiting in bed for you. I have responsibilities.” Greg furrowed his eyebrows and toyed the keys through his fingers. What was Mycroft thinking? Greg assumed that Mycroft wasn’t that experienced in relationships but this was ridiculous. He couldn’t expect Greg to just wait in bed for him every night, in case he might come home and look forward to a bit of fooling around.

“Gregory, do not for a moment think that I meant to say that you would be a kin to a…a rentboy. Just that I tire of sleeping alone and long to share my bed with someone. Specifically with you.” Mycroft said these words must softer than the first reasoning and that was a comfort to Greg. Plus, hearing the British Government say the word rentboy should be on everyone’s bucket list.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But I’ll put the key with mine so when the time comes, I’ll be ready.” Greg tried his hardest to sound assuring, because he didn’t want to concern Mycroft.

“That sounds acceptable. I’m sorry dear, but I must be off. I have to fly out to Tokyo tonight for a few days. I’ll be available for text though. Maybe a call.” Mycroft hated to be leaving town at this time, because they still hadn’t even had their first date, but unfortunately the Japanese didn’t particularly care that he wanted to look into Greg’s eyes, and share dinner (and life apparently) with him.

“Oh, okay. Well, I’m off for the next few days so I’ll text you in between naps and warm baths and chapters in my book.” Greg snickered at what he hoped would be a lovely, relaxed weekend.

“I’m truly sorry that I won’t be there to relax with you. It sounds truly lovely. Until next time, Detective Inspector.” Mycroft didn’t hang up in the typical way that he would have normally, but instead hesitated, waiting for Greg to close the conversation.

“Bye, Mycroft. Travel safely.” Greg hung up the phone and took a breath. Despite the strangeness that a relationship with Mycroft Holmes meant, he was almost sure that he was ready to deal with it.


End file.
